


Glory and Gore

by Desparado



Series: April Song Challenge [22]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24253594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desparado/pseuds/Desparado
Summary: Set after the ‘Civil War’ Steve enlists the help some his fellow exiles to hunt for you, the team member that managed to escape arrest but not your own mind. Now serving as in international vigilante, he tries to find you before anyone else does.April Writing Challenge Day 22 – Glory and Gore (by Lorde)
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: April Song Challenge [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740901
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Glory and Gore

**Author's Note:**

> I created myself a little writing challenge for April. The challenge is a new song each day (Thanks to shuffling my iTunes library) to inspire a fic of some kind. I’ll listen to the song a few times, and then plan like mad when the inspiration hits. 
> 
> Reader is enhanced with fast healing.
> 
> Warnings: Where do I begin? Alcohol consumption (a lot); swearing; some dark shit I won’t lie; very angsty; prostitution/drug/abuse mentions; Think like seedy backalleys and dodgy characters – these are the mofos you deal with; HAPPY ENDING THIS TIME CAUSE I LOVE YOU ALL <3

The light above them flickered as the train came roaring overhead, the bulb swinging from its wire throwing shadows all over the room. But the occupants didn’t notice, too busy watching the computer screen in front of them. Steve released a heavy sigh as he watched the footage of a masked figure walk into the club of a known trafficking ring and decimate everyone in the room using a knife and a broken chair. “Damn, she doesn’t mess around.” Sam commented, earning a glare from Steve, “What- it’s true!”  
“It’s just… chaos.” Wanda muttered, staring in disbelief.  
“Remember her phrase? ‘In all chaos there is calculation.’ She’s doing it for a reason.” Nat replied, checking for other camera angles of the event.  
“She’s making it look like gang warfare.” Steve revealed, swallowing hard. Sam whistled as they watched the figure then pick up glasses and throwing them into the walls and floor.“Wow, that’s smart.” Wanda whispered, not wanting a death glare from Steve.  
“She’s gonna get on a lot of radars in a bad way.” Natasha warned, biting her nail as she watched alcohol being tossed all over furniture, then a small flash of light followed by flames igniting the whole room. “We have to find her.” Steve stated, not looking away from the screen.  
“Steve, she doesn’t want to be found, that’s clear-”  
“I don’t care.” He hissed at Sam, “I will not let y/n be hunted and mauled. Not while I’m still breathing.” 

Sirens came flooding in through the open window, drowning out the restless thudding from the nearby strip club that filled the summer air. You opened the bottle in your hand and tossed the lid somewhere behind you before bringing the bottle to your lips; bittersweet liquid, reminiscent of cough syrup, flowed down your throat. After draining it, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and frowned when you realised your sleeve was stained with blood. Remembering the arterial spray from one goon as you sliced his throat, protecting your face with your sleeve. You shook your head at the memory and got up to look for food. Walking past your ‘Most Wanted’ wall, you yanked the fridge door open and stared inside: expired meat, an almost empty carton of milk, and some Cheetos you don’t remember putting in there. You shrugged your shoulders and pulled out the bag of Cheetos before walking over to your mattress on the floor. Just as you were about to sit down, your phone vibrated. Quickly pulling it out, you noticed a notification from a security camera and swiped the app open. Sighing, you watched three men in balaclavas break into the backdoor downstairs and stalk towards the staircase, guns raised. You grabbed your gun from the counter and pulled the knife from your bag. You could easily take them out then shove them in the freezer room downstairs until tomorrow. Then another notification popped up, you clicked it and were shown intruders on the warehouse roof. A shiver ran down your spine when you suddenly recognised the blond man in dark blue combat gear, followed by his winged partner. You swallowed hard. It had been so long since you’d seen him and he looked so… different. A loud bang by the staircase at the other end of the huge room brought you out of your daze and you rapidly set to work. Shoving light clothing in a bag, you grabbed a full bottle of vodka and yanked the lid off. You sighed disappointedly, before taking a swig and them throwing the contents onto your wall of photos and maps. More footsteps followed by gunshots alerted you to both sets of visitors having now met and you sprinted towards the window. Strapping your backpack on, you placed your mask over your face and climbed onto the fire escape. You could hear shouting behind you followed by pained shouts and then silence. As you skilfully abseiled down the sides of the fire escape- leaping down onto each floor- you heard the unmistakable sound of Sam cursing which you assume was upon seeing your burning wall. As you reached halfway down, you heard a shout of your name. Fuck. At that point you jumped the last few floors in one go and hit a dumpster, groaning from the pain in your thigh as you rolled off and started limping away. By the time you made it through the warehouse gate and turned the corner onto the street, your leg had healed and you could break into a sprint, weaving through the taxis on the roads and disappearing into the city. 

“I take it that it didn’t go well?” Natasha enquired, choosing her words carefully as Steve and Sam entered the hideout.  
“Not really, turns out some of the local Russian mob also wanted to visit; and I don’t think it was for a coffee and a catch up.” Sam panted. She nodded understandingly and followed Steve with her eyes as he walked over to the table, pulling out 2 pieces of paper from his pocket and placing them down. He pointed to one; a Russian politician who actively campaigned for the Sokovian Accords. “I took this from where she’d been hiding, any idea why she has it?” Steve asked, looking up at Natasha. She ambled over and took a good look at the image,  
“Pavel Chekov, responsible for getting Russian to sign the Accords.” She stated bluntly.  
“Does he by any chance have any connections to the mob?” Steve pushed, raising an eyebrow. She tilted her head and licked her lips,  
“Actually there was a rumour that his brother ran a trafficking ring in Moscow, but the brother fled before it could be proved. We assumed he was killed…” Her eyes flicked up to Steve and he nodded. “Don’t think she-”  
“I do.” He replied knowingly. Sam and Wanda joined them both, waiting silently to be included. Steve sighed, “Y/n always said every politician is corrupt- one way or another- that’s why she was so against the Accords. I think she’s taken it upon herself to expose everyone who signed them, to prove her theory.” Then he pointed to the half-burnt image of a well known Sokovian diplomat that soon to arrive in New York for a state visit. “This was there too. We need to find Chekov – or his brother – and also find out what dirt y/n might have on this guy.”  
For three weeks they worked tirelessly. Sam and Nat looked into Chekov while Steve and Wanda tried to find out about the Sokovian diplomat, whom they had discovered was called ‘Vlado Stankovic’. It was during an observation of the Sokovian Embassy that they were distracted by news on the television of the newly surfaced confession video. No longer interested in the building opposite, Steve, Sam and Nat stared at the screen- as did the other customers in the café- when the face Chekov’s brother appeared, detailed his trafficking exploits and how his brother Pavel helped him avoid conviction. He had minimal injuries, but Steve knew from his nervous glances behind the camera that it was you. Then the video cuts off and the screen returned to the newsreader who carries on with the headlines. “She did it, she actually did it.” Natasha whispered, staring at her drink as she spoke. “What’ll she do with him now?” Sam asked.  
“He’s probably already dead.” Steve mumbled. 

It brought a smile to your lips as you sat at the bar, glancing at the TV above your head as the newsreader announced the death of Ivan Chekov- found in a shipping container in Moscow- and how his politician brother was being charged for his murder as well as for aiding a criminal and failure to assist police. The murder conviction was a bonus, you hadn’t expected that, only wanting to see him charged for the other crimes. You finished your beer and turned around to look at the other customers. It was 4am and many of the customers were passed out or on the verge. Some stumbled out of the bar, laughing tiredly, before the barman rang the bell to announce closing time. The walk home was slowly lit by the morning sun as many night owls were heading home or to the nearest hotel. As you walked into the apartment building, you stepped over users and declined white powder promises from dealers who filled the hallways like a marketplace and head into your studio. You locked the door using three locks, just in case, and dropped your backpack on the floor. You yawned as you unlocked your phone and flicked through the photos you had taken earlier in the day, analysing the exits, corridors, security cameras; all in preparation for your assault later tonight. Falling onto the mattress on your floor, you put your phone down and tried to get some sleep; trying hard to ignore the memories of the airport: fighting against your friends and watching the love of your life disappearing into the sky with his best friend.  
The cries outside your door jolted you awake. You sat bolt upright- gun in hand aimed at the door. After a few seconds you slowly let your arm drop, realising the cries were just your neighbours arguing, you tried to calm your thudding heart and let your body hit the mattress again. You rubbed your face and reached for your phone to check the time: 08:36. Cursing the world, you calculated that you could probably get 2 more hours of sleep before having to move. Just as you tried to doze off again, the cries became more desperate as you heard a male voice shouting before the sound of a thump following by a female cry. The female was young, maybe barely a teen, and it boiled your blood when you heard her: “Daddy please, I swear I’ll get more tonight!” That was enough for you. Seeing red, you pushed yourself off the mattress and slipped a pocketknife in your jeans before opening your door onto the scene in front of you- a 13-year-old with a bloody nose kneeling halfway in the apartment door opposite. A tall, dark haired man towered over her, fist clenched, before looking up at you with a fixed jaw, “What the fuck is your problem?” He spat, as you smiled devilishly and closed your apartment door. 

Walking out of the child services building, you clenched and unclenched your bloodstained fists, willing your heart to stop thumping. After dealing with the dad, you brought the girl here, where she was taken in and offered a place in another state, far away from her father, which she happily accepted. Upon your departure, the girl wrapped her arms around your waist and thanked you for saving her before being led away by the social worker. Her words had shocked you and brought back memories - saving the world, helping civilians in need- all now a thing of your past; and it haunted you as you headed back to the apartment and changed into fresh clothes ready for your plan.  
Having accessed the security camera outside the florist opposite the hotel, you sat in the back of a minivan- laptop on your knees- and waited, looking around at the interior in the van. Thankfully, you knew that the chef who owned it was going to be in the restaurant next door for another 3 hours before he came back for his cigarette break. After an hour and a half, your target finally left the hotel. Fixing your wig, you packed your laptop back into your suitcase and exited the van. Strolling out of the parking lot, you turned the corner and entered the hotel, walking straight to the reception desk, “Good evening, welcome to the Lotte New York Palace, do you have a reservation?”

You paced the hotel room, constantly glancing between your laptop screen and your phone- 23:35 – you sighed and continued pacing, fiddling with your dress as you did so. What was taking him so long? You grabbed the half empty bottle of vodka from the desk and took a swig, squeezing your eyes shut as you swallowed. Your hand was shaking and you clenched it into a fist, willing it to stop. This happened before you kidnapped the Chekov brother- and before you took out his trafficking gang- so it wasn’t new, but it did bring reminders of preparing for missions, of Steve noticing your anxiety and taking your hand in his before bringing it to his lips and kissing the knuckles. It reminded you of every time he smiled reassuringly at you, of how he would train extensively with you before each mission so you felt properly prepared, before then cooling off together in the showers, lips pressed together and held up against the wall... You shook away the thoughts- and the tears- taking a mouthful of vodka and swallowing your emotions along with it. Then your laptop screen showed a black car pulling up by the hotel entrance, and the target stepping out of the vehicle with a young blond girl on his arm, stumbling to keep his pace, clearly intoxicated. Your heart raced again and the blood in your veins rushed adrenaline to your limbs. You checked your dress, secured your wig and finished the look off with your deep red lipstick before grabbing your small handbag and leaving the room.  
The walk down the corridor was long, your target’s suite at the end and you could see the guard standing outside as he eyed you carefully. When you kept walking closer, his posture changed and he was taking in your figure-hugging dress- showing all the right curves- and then finally dragged his eyes up to your face. “I’m here for Mr. Stankovic.” You breathed, smiling at him.  
“He’s busy.” The man bluntly replied. You hummed in amusement,  
“I know, and he’s going to get a lot busier. I’m a gift from Ivan if that eases your mind.” The name drop was enough for the man as he nodded and then moved aside so you could reach the door. Then he stopped you and told you to place your hands on the door as he ‘checked’ you over. You complied and focused on stopping the bile rising to your throat as large, cold hands roamed all over your body, particularly your chest and legs. “Careful big boy, anymore and I’ll have to charge.” You forced out a quiet, seductive tone and it worked. He grunted in understanding and then opened the door for you using his key card.  
Once inside, you closed the door behind you- winking at the guard- and then looked around. Ahead of you was a large open plan living space, luxurious furniture included a large sofa, various chairs as well as a small desk. You could hear moans and mumbled words to your right, coming from the bedroom, and it sent rage rushing through you. You walked over to the door and took a deep breath before knocking. “I’m busy!” Came a shout, but you opened the door anyway. Stankovic was sat in a chair by the window, the young woman was on her knees in front of him and she pulled herself away when the door clicked open. Initially the man looked furious, but then his features changed and his eyes darkened as he checked you out. “Well hello little miss; can I help you?”  
“Actually, Mr Stankovic, it’s more what I can do to help you.” You slowly walked into the room, your hips swaying, “I come with greetings from Ivan.” His eyes grew wide at your words. “I see, well don’t be shy, let me look at you.” You gave him a little twirl, making sure to take your time. You glanced at the girl, who was sitting on the floor and staring blankly at you. She looked barely of age, makeup smeared on her face and the top her dress had been ripped open. “Very nice.” Stankovic stated, drawing his words out slowly. “How old are you?”  
“I’m legal age of course!” You chuckled innocently, giving him a wink. “Ivan knows what you like, so he asked me to come and entertain you, compliments of the house, after your last visit didn’t end as happily as we would like.” He nodded at you, understanding your words, then glanced at the girl on the floor. “If you wouldn’t mind,” You began, regaining his attention, “I work better as a solo act, let me take her next door and I can show you what’s underneath this.” You suggested, allowing your fingertips to slowly pull up the skirt of your dress, but not enough for him to see anything. He stared at you, mouth open and practically drooling, then nodded. You held your hand out to the girl and she hesitated before taking it. Having to hold her tightly, you took her out of the room and closed the bedroom door. You sat her on the couch and gave her a bottle of water that was on the coffee table. “Wait here, drink all of this okay?” She nodded at you and you smiled, stroking some hair out of her face; then you stood up straight and returned to the bedroom.  
He had already moved to the bed, sitting on the edge and facing the door. “So, does Ivan’s gift have a name?” You took your bag off your shoulder and placed it on the drawers next to you, stealthily taking out your lipstick. You stalked over to him then gently pushed him down on the bed. Stradling him, you leant down in his ear and quietly removed the bottom of the lipstick case, “Justice.” You whispered, before leaning back up and using the needle inside the lipstick to inject him in the side of his neck. You clasped your hand over his mouth as he tried to shout, squirming underneath you, but you held tight and within 30 seconds the sedative took hold. You moved away from him and sighed deeply before picking up your bag and leaving the room. The girl was still sat on the couch when she looked up at you, her innocence gaze broke your heart. She held the half empty bottle in her hand and you gave her a little smile. Taking a roll of cash from your bag and handing it to her, “Go home,” you calmly told her, “Go home and pretend none of this ever happened, you never saw me.” You looked at her expectantly and she nodded before standing up and taking the money from your hands. Heading to the door you opened it to let her out, the guard nowhere to be seen- presumedly for a bathroom break. 

Upon walking back into the bedroom, you were stunned to find Steve sat in one of the chairs by the window, arms crossed. For a few seconds, neither of you moved, instead staring into each other’s eyes. You wanted to turn and run but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, not this time. “Y/n.” He whispered, the sound sending tingles down your spine.  
“That’s not my name.” You stated monotonously.  
“What and ‘Justice’ is?”  
“Yes!” You snapped, glaring at him. He stood up and stepped towards you but you moved back in unison. He stopped moving and held his arms out, palms open, to show he meant no harm. “Why are you doing this, y/n?” He asked.  
“You’re a clever boy, if you’re here then you must already know.” You retorted, folding your arms. Steve glanced at the man lying on the bed,  
“I know what you believe him guilty of-”  
“Believe? He paid a 15-year-old for sex and then beat her when she didn’t comply.” You were almost shouting at this point. “She’s in the hospital right now and even her ‘pimp’ doesn’t know her real name or where she came from.”  
“I know, Nat is working on that as we speak.” He replied calmly. “You can’t keep doing this, choosing battles that you can’t win alone.”  
“The battles chose me that day at the airport.” You hissed, tears brewing in your eyes, “You were fighting for your best friend but I was fighting to stop us becoming another pawn in this political game. Having corrupt politicians choose who we save and who we fight. I won’t stand for it.” Steve gazed at you empathetically and stepped closer. You noticed this but didn’t move, almost wishing to feel his embrace once more. “How’s Bucky?”  
“He’s good, T’Challa’s helping look into removing that stuff from his head.”  
“T’Challa? The same one who wanted to rip his throat out?” Steve chuckled at your words,  
“It’s a long story.” He smiled.  
“What about the others? Clint, Wanda, Scott?”  
“Everyone’s fine, Scott’s under house arrest as is Clint. Wanda’s with me, and you know about Sam.” You allowed yourself a small smile. Suddenly the figure on the bed made a groaning sound and you quickly moved towards his wardrobe. “Y/n, what are you doing?”  
“Get out Steve.”  
“No I’m not leaving without you. Just forget him-” You grabbed some ties from Stankovic’s collection and stood right in front of Steve, only a breath away. “I cannot forget. People like him start pissing matches over superhero puppets and claim the world to be free. What I’m doing is stripping them of the facades and showing them what that big word means.” He didn’t respond, only staring at your lips then gazing in your eyes. He was tugging at your heartstrings and it caused an ache in your chest. You forced yourself to pull away and used two of the ties to bind Stankovic’s wrists and ankles together. Steve took hold of your arm and pulled you away from the bed, “Stop playing these games, don’t you understand the risks? You’re messing with the wrong people and it’s gonna get you killed-”  
“I don’t ever think about death- perks of rapid healing- so instead I think about the gore of this cruel world and the glory of making it a better place.” You yanked your arm away from him, “Now go before he wakes up and the guard comes back.”  
“I dealt with the guard earlier.” He stated, then took a deep breath and placed his hand on your cheek. It froze you in place and you couldn’t help but lean into it. “Come back with me. We can make the world a better place but let’s do it the right way. Together.” He brought your face closer to his, lips almost touching, and you breathed him in. It had been so long since you felt his touch, his kiss, and your body yearned for it. “Please y/n.” He whispered, his eyes staring into yours and you could see tears developing along the waterline. You silently nodded and he pulled you in for a short kiss, lips crashing harshly against each other before moving apart just as quickly. He took your hand and led you out of the hotel suite and into the elevator. “I love you, y/n.” He muttered, gently squeezing your hand and looking at the elevator door as he spoke. You flicked your gaze up to his face before looking back towards the closing door, “I love you too, Steve.”


End file.
